


vestiges of me

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-19
Updated: 2007-07-19
Packaged: 2018-09-06 10:12:05
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8746162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Dean's dealing with the fallout of Sam's leaving for Stanford. Oneshot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: Random little drabble or one shot I guess. What can I say? I absolutely love Kelly Clarkson (the new album is amazing btw!) and this just gave me a little inspiration about Dean. It’s not much, something new and different but I felt I had to put it down. Forgive me. Much love goes out to [Miss Cinnamon](http://samdean.archive.nu/viewuser.php?action=favauth&uid=756) as always. She is my miracle worker!  


* * *

_Tired_

 

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face and took a deep breath. Another day, another hunt. It didn’t matter how tired he was, they kept coming. Six months and counting since there’d been one break. Evil didn’t take vacations and neither did he, not after the last one had left him without a younger brother. Oh no, evil didn't take vacations.

 

Not even for a broken heart. 

 

_Of everything around me_

 

He pushed open the Impala's door, taking comfort in the familiar creak and shift in the only thing he had left. Once upon a time he’d thought family was the only thing he had and he’d clung to that for as long as he could. 

 

A lot of good that had done him. 

 

The door closed loudly with a bump of his hip, the crunch of gravel beneath his boots the only sound as he made his way up to the bar. His stomach sank at the sight of Dad’s truck parked around the side. Dad was already inside, no doubt having a drink or two as he waited, which meant Dean didn’t have much time to get his act together. 

 

He’d been more than a little surprised to hear his phone go off at four this morning. Especially since the voice on the other end when he’d answered was Dad and not Sam, who had been the only person to call his phone in months.

 

The only reason he even answered the damn thing was to tell his brother where he could stick his precious phone. For months he’d avoided Sam’s calls and he intended to keep it that way, but four o’ clock in the morning was just cruel of Sam. To his surprise, instead of Sam’s guilt ridden voice, it had been Dad’s gruff one asking Dean to meet him that afternoon for a hunt he didn’t think he could handle on his own. 

 

Dean had been awake and on the road ever since. The past six hours spent in a daze of half hearted distractions while he waited to see his father, who he hadn’t seen in almost five months. They’d tried hunting together for a month or so after Sam left for Stanford, but it hadn’t been the same and they’d gotten on each other’s nerves more than anything. What with Dean’s moping and Dad’s brooding. He wasn’t really sure how well things were going to work out this time around, but he was beginning to realize he didn’t have much choice in things as he had once thought. 

 

_I smile_

_But I don't feel a thing no_

 

Dad slid from the barstool as he walked in, grinning widely at his oldest son. Dean snorted quietly to himself and returned the smile as best he could. There was a time when just the sight of Dad could put a genuine grin on his face, now it just made his stomach lurch and his chest tighten. Made him feel empty. 

 

Wasn’t Dad’s fault though, now was it? Dean didn’t feel much of anything these days, besides the dull ache in his chest and the occasional gut reaction. Of course, Dean didn’t feel much because he didn’t let himself. It was safer that way when he was as tired and rundown as he was. Ready to just pack it in. Denial was his lifeline. 

 

“How are you, son?” Dad asked, drawing him into a tight hug. 

 

Dean put his arms loosely around his father and weighed his options carefully. He could be honest like Sam was always begging him to be or he could lie like he’d been doing for the past twenty some years. 

 

And this wasn’t Sam. 

 

He didn’t particularly think Dad would like to hear about the pain that caused him. Or the fact that he couldn’t feel much else. What Dad wanted was an _I’m good_ or _So what’s this hunt about?_ Down to business, feelings aside. Simple. Empty. 

 

That, Dean could handle. 

 

_I'm so far from where I need to be_

_I've given up on faith, on everything_

__

“Ready to get back to the job,” he half lied. That was what Dad wanted to hear and that was what Dean wanted to mean. The hunt had given him everything in his life and taken away everything else. And right now he was as far from where he needed to be as he could get. 

 

Palo Alto was well over a two thousand miles from here, he’d made sure of that when Dad had asked for his help on this hunt. Ordinarily he jumped at the chance of working with Dad, but working with Dad also meant having to smile brighter, to lie a little more convincingly than usual. After all, Dad had been the one to teach his boys to lie, how to survive. If anyone could spot a crack in his perfection it was Dad. Or Sam. But Sam wasn’t around anymore, was he? 

 

Dad laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. Clearly that was the right answer. He motioned Dean over to where he’d been sitting before, a cold beer waiting in front of the seat next to Dad’s. Thank God for small favors. 

 

Dropping down onto the stool, he kept his eyes carefully away from Dad’s. It took a lot of energy to smile and a hell of a lot more to keep the agony from his eyes. If he was going to make it through this hunt he was going to have to conserve as much energy as possible. Dad may have been oblivious to the things that were most important to Dean but he wasn’t stupid. 

 

Dean took a long pull from his beer and turned to face Dad, ready for the details- only there weren’t any. Dad had overestimated things and had taken care of the job long before Dean had made it into Florida. He’d just been killing time while he waited to see his oldest. 

 

Dean frowned and eyed Dad’s bright smile. Nothing about this day was making any sense. The phone call at four in the morning, the hunt he’d taken care of after all and not bothered to call Dean back up and tell him it was done, and more than anything the bright smiles and pure excitement to see Dean. He could write it off as Dad being lonely, or perhaps missing having at least one son around after twenty some years, and Dean would be able to fault him or that. He’d missed Dad, true, but it was killing him to sit there and make small talk. He needed to be out hunting or hustling, anything to forget that he’d given up too long ago. 

 

_All I want, all I need_

_Is some peace_

 

He’d spent most of his time hunting over the past few months and the rest of it in bars hustling, unable to stand even flirting with anyone, remembering all the times he’d done it to get a rise out of Sam. 

 

Now there was no younger brother to glance over at from beneath lowered lashes, making his stomach flutter with the anticipation of a jealous and impulsive reaction Sam never gave any other time. 

 

“Why didn’t you just call?” Dean asked, fidgeting under Dad’s happy and expectant gaze. “I thought you needed help on this one.” 

 

“I did too,” Dad answered, taking a pull off his own beer. “But I guess I was wrong. It happens now and then,” he teased, winking at Dean. 

 

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Guess so.” 

 

Small talk was made for a few minutes longer, the weather coming up more than once in their conversation pathetically enough, before Dad finally dropped the bomb on him. 

 

_There's a hole_

_Inside of me_

__

“I heard from your brother yesterday,” he said tentatively, like he expected Dean to break down into tears right there. 

 

They both knew how well things had gone over the first time Dad had brought Sam up. Dean had chucked the beer in his hand across the room and punched a hole in the motel room wall. That time it had been about taking his brother to the bus station, like Dean didn’t have enough to deal with, without actually having to _watch_ his brother walk out of his life. But if Dad’s uncertainty was any indication, this was likely to be just as bad. 

 

“Yeah?” he asked, feigning interest and somehow managing to force a small smile, when what he really felt like doing was running for the nearest door. “I thought you two weren’t talking.” Dad had told Sam that if he left that was the end of things, he’d closed that damn door for Dean. For them all. 

 

“And I thought you two were,” Dad replied easily. “He says he’s been trying to call you for awhile now. A few months actually. Wondered if you were still breathing.” 

 

There it was. The whole reason for Dad’s call this morning, for his invitation to his latest hunt-Sam had called, worried him. 

 

Dean wasn’t all that surprised that Sam had gotten his way, even with Dad, but he was surprised that Sam had turned to Dad when he hadn’t been able to get a hold of Dean in the first place. He’d figured that Sam had let it drop. That he understood Dean’s feelings of anger and betrayal. Understood that they were _over_. 

 

Honestly he hadn’t expected Sam to call in the first place seeing as how he’d been the one to end things, but had Sam seriously believed that Dean would answer any of those calls? Like he hadn’t put himself through enough with their relationship as it was. He didn’t need any calls to remind himself of all he’d had and all he’d lost in one afternoon. 

__

_It's so cold_

_Slowly killing me_

__

His gut twisted but he kept the smile on his face. “As you can see, I’m still breathing, Dad.” 

 

John nodded. “I know and I’m glad to see that, but I’m not the one that had any doubt.” 

 

“Yeah, well,” he said, forcing the grin wider. “I’ve been kind of busy. Figured he would be too with class and all.” Isn’t that what he’d gone to Stanford for after all? Class. Normal. All the things Dean wasn’t or couldn’t give him. 

 

“I said some things I shouldn’t have said to your brother,” Dad started, dropping his gaze to the beer in his hands. 

 

“Dad,” Dean interrupted uncomfortably, shifting his own gaze to the opposite side of the bar. 

 

“No, son,” Dad said. “I think you need to hear this as much as I need to say it.” He placed a gentle hand over Dean’s, startling him. 

 

Dean stared down Dad‘s slightly larger one over his, wondering when the last time he’d felt anyone’s touch. Somewhere between six months and now, he was sure. Sam had been the last one to touch him, the last person Dean had wanted to touch him and that hadn’t changed over the past six months, despite everything else. 

 

He needed Sam’s touch, his warmth to function at Winchester levels of normal. Everyone else’s just made him feel cold and sick. It was a shame he’d taken it for granted when his brother _had_ been around.

__

_Secrets_

_Eating at the core of me_

__

Dad wouldn’t know that though. Sam and Dean were brothers, not lovers, as far as anyone else knew. That would be wrong and twisted. Not possible in Dad’s mind. The fact that they could taste the other without even having to think about it was a secret only they shared. 

 

The fact that Dean could feel himself breaking apart so easily without Sam’s touch to keep him together-was a secret all his own. 

 

“What I said to your brother was wrong. He may have left, but there’s no reason to keep him from coming back. To you or us, we’re family and something like college isn’t going to stand between the Winchesters.” 

 

College wasn’t what was standing between them, not completely. Sam had given Dean a way out. He had made it clear that Stanford was something he wanted but could live without. All he wanted was to know if Dean felt the same about him as he felt about Stanford. 

 

“What’s your point, Dad?” Dean choked out. He pulled his hand from Dad’s and wiped the back of it across his eyes. He hadn’t cried in six months and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now in a bar with Dad, somewhere outside of Gainesville. 

 

Six months ago Dad had been as angry as Dean. Now he was getting ready to sing his brother’s praises. 

 

“My point is,” Dad said eyeing him warily. “Is that just because I shot my damn mouth off doesn’t mean you can’t talk to your brother. I shouldn’t have spoken for the both of us. I know how important Sam is to you.” 

 

Dean laughed softly. Yeah, Dad knew how much Sam meant to him. He knew how much it tore Dean up inside to know that he’d been stupid enough to let Sam leave. That he couldn’t just come out and say that he loved Sam, that not only did he want him, but he couldn’t live without him. 

 

The problem was that _no one_ knew how he felt for Sam. It wasn’t Dad, it wasn’t college, it was Dean. 

 

“Dean?” he asked. “Are you okay, son?” 

 

Dean snorted. He couldn’t help it. The whole situation was just too funny to him. Here he was sitting in some nowhere bar with Dad talking about how Dad knew how strongly he felt for Sam, understanding how much it had hurt to watch him leave, and to have _Dad_ tell him he needed to let it go. To welcome Sam back in with the same kind of loving arms he was. 

 

It was beyond funny, right up next to insanity. 

 

Dad hadn’t spent his entire life loving Sam, he hadn’t spent the last half of it _in love_ with Sam, and he sure as hell hadn’t spent the past two years doing everything short of fucking Sam. So it was pretty insane to sit there and listen to Dad talk like he knew how much it hurt to lose Sam- because he didn’t know a damn thing about how Dean was feeling. 

 

When Dad’s hand covered his again he realized that Dad was still waiting on his answer. That while he’d been ranting to himself, he hadn’t said a damn word, only laughed and snorted like someone that needed to be locked up. Dad wanted to know if Dean was okay. As if Dean could ever be okay again with this gaping whole in his heart. 

__

_Shut off_

_Trusting all the lies I breathe_

 

“I’m good,” he lied, pulling his hand back a little more gracefully this time. He was always good wasn’t he? That was the lie everyone needed to believe and who was he to have it any other way? He’d brought this heartache on himself after all. 

 

Falling in love with your younger brother was about as stupid as it got. Oh, yeah, except for the part where he acted on it. Yeah, Dean was pretty sure _that_ was about as stupid as it got.

__

_I'm so far from where I need to be_

_I've given up on faith, on everything_

__

“You sure?” 

 

Sure as he ever would be. 

 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said brightly. “Just itching to get back to the hunt.” He hoped Dad would take the hint. 

 

“Dean,” John sighed. “Your brother-” 

 

“My brother, what?” Dean demanded, setting his beer down a little harder than he meant to. “I get what you’re saying, Dad. You want me to forgive Sam, you want me to call him up and shoot the breeze, pretend I actually give a shit what he’s doing in California. I _get it_.” 

 

John sighed again and shook his head. “Do you really get it, son? Because I don’t think you do.” 

 

Dean shrugged and ordered up another beer, his head beginning to spin with the dull ache growing in his chest. “Well, I think you’re the one that doesn’t get it, Dad. There’s more to it than just Stanford, and California.” A hell of a lot more to it. 

__

_All I wanted, all I needed_

_Was some peace_

__

“Then explain it to me. If I don’t get it, Dean, I need you to tell me what it is I’m missing then.” 

 

Oh, yeah. Explain it to Dad. That would go over well. Dean could just see it now. A, pathetically enough, sober fist fight between father and son over the fact that said son was fucking the other youngest son and now didn’t want to talk to him because they were having relationship troubles. Sure, why not? 

 

“Forget it, Dad. It’s nothing.” 

 

God, he didn’t know how much more talking about Sam he could take. He just wanted to forget it had ever happened. He wanted to scream it at his father, let him know that he just couldn't do this, couldn't talk about his reason for living like his leaving meant nothing. He wanted to just stop. He wanted to move on with his life, to the next town, the next scam, the next hunt. Whatever would take him as far from Sam and his memory as possible. This conversation was dangerous and too painful to even go along with. 

 

_There's a hole_

_Inside of me_

__

“It’s not nothing. If something’s wrong you’ve gotta talk to me. Sam is-” 

 

Dean stood up quickly, nearly knocking over his barstool. “Sam is gone. Accept it.” 

 

John glanced around the bar and shot Dean a disapproving looks as more than a few heads turned their way. “Sit down,” he ordered. 

 

Dean followed his gaze and reluctantly sat down. As much as he wanted this conversation over with, he didn’t want to draw any more attention their way than necessary. That was dangerous enough on its own. Their faces weren’t exactly unknown with the police here and the last thing he wanted was to deal with them on top of everything else. 

 

“I know Sam’s gone, I’m not the one that can’t seem to accept that,” Dad said pointedly. 

 

Dean snorted. Oh, no, he’d definitely accepted the fact that Sam was gone, he’d even accepted that Sam wasn’t coming back. What he hadn’t accepted was Sam’s attempt at an apology. Mainly because he realized that Sam wasn’t the one at fault and he just couldn’t bring himself to admit that. It opened too many doors he wasn’t comfortable with and probably never would be. 

__

_It's so damn cold_

_Slowly killing me_

__

“Is this what you woke me up at four in the morning for?” Dean asked in irritation. “Because we could have done this over the phone.” 

 

John nodded, “We could have. But then you have hung up on me too.” 

 

He probably would have too. It was better than listening to all the things he needed to accept. Dean knew exactly what he needed, and this wasn't it. It wasn’t his Dad getting in between him and Sam, or trying to fix the things he didn’t understand. What Dean needed was Sam. 

 

_Sinking ever so slowly_

_So far from where I should be_

_No hands reaching out for me_

_Help me, help me_

__

“What’s going on with you?” Dad asked softly. “It’s not like you to stop taking calls from Sam. You’ve always been there for your brother and suddenly I’m the one he’s turning to. That’s not like you, Dean. Never has been.” 

 

Dad was finally right about something. It _wasn’t_ like Dean to keep Sam at arm’s length. Not when Sam was reaching out to him. Normally Dean would be snatching up those calls, worriedly demanding to know if Sam was okay, if he was remembering to salt the doors and windows and maybe now and then reminding him that he belonged to Dean, and Dean only.

 

But Sam didn’t belong to him anymore though, and he didn’t need Dean. He had Stanford, he had his normal life, and surely people that loved him because it was impossible to not love Sam when he turned those puppy dog eyes on you. All trusting and sweet, everything Dean had never been. Open and honest, always caring about the people around him. Dean wasn’t heartless but he cared more for his family than anything or anyone else, and if it came right down to a choice it would always be them over anyone else. Selfish or short sighted as that may be. 

__

_Something's gone_

_I can feel it_

__

“It just feels wrong,” he admitted begrudgingly to Dad’s questioning gaze, memories of Sam forcing his lips to move. “Sam’s supposed to be…” _Sammy_ , that’s all that came to Dean’s mind. 

 

Sam was Sammy, and that’s how he was always supposed to be. They weren’t supposed to be torn apart with two thousand miles of silence between them over nothing. Dean should be at Stanford with Sam, or Sam on the road with Dean. It didn’t matter where or how, that’s just how it was supposed to be. It wasn’t supposed to feel like something was missing. 

 

Which wasn’t all that weird considering a part of him _was_ missing. The better half of him at that. 

 

John nodded in understanding. “I know its tough to let go, but he’s a big boy now, Dean.” 

 

“Yeah, I get that,” Dean snapped. He should have known Dad wouldn’t be able to understand. That as hard as Dad tried to be understanding of his boys and their feelings, he‘d never be able to follow through. He was even more stunted and oblivious than Dean. “I’ve been there every step of the way Dad. Believe me, I know.” And he did know. He knew just how grown up Sam could be in more ways than Dad would ever want or need to know about. It wasn’t so much the letting go of a younger brother, but of his heart.

__

_It's all wrong_

_I'm so sick of this_

__

“You have been there every step of the way and that’s my point son. You’ve always been there, why not now?” 

 

Why not now? Because now Sam didn’t belong to him anymore. In one way or another he’d always belonged to Dean, but he’d somehow lost that along the way. With stupid remarks and the inability to just be straight with a younger brother who had only ever asked for his honesty and love- that was why not now. 

 

“Look,” he smoothed over, “Its just going to take some getting used to.” 

 

He shouldn’t have said anything about it in the first place. He had a hard enough time thinking about it and keeping cool without having to face up to things with Dad. He was sure of everything Dad had expected or hoped for out of this conversation it wouldn’t be to find out that his two sons had been in a romantic and highly physical relationship, even if it had ended as badly as it did. 

 

Losing a son to college wasn’t the same as losing a younger brother and a lover to your own stupidity. 

__

_There's a hole_

_Inside of me_

__

Dad didn’t look too convinced by his words, but he didn’t know what else to tell him. There were things that Dean had to deal with before he could even think about talking to Sam again. That didn’t mean that if Sam needed him he wouldn’t be there, because he would. He listened to every message Sam left-saved them and replayed them like the love sick sucker and loving older brother he was. 

 

It only ripped open fresh wounds to hear Sam’s voice in his ear, low and guilt ridden, saying he loved Dean and that he was sorry. Just please talk to him, let him explain. It hurt to hear the pain it was causing Sam to be away from Dean, but it didn’t mean he could just pick up the phone and call him back. If it was that easy he wouldn't be in this place. 

__

_It's so damn cold_

_Slowly killing me_

__

“Maybe you should take a break,” Dad suggested. “Go see, Sam. Work things out.” 

 

Dean couldn‘t believe what he was hearing. Dad didn‘t believe in breaks, not unless it was physically necessary. Not unless going on a hunt in your current condition could get you or someone else killed. There was no other reason for abandoning the hunt as far as he was concerned, there never had been. 

 

“I could go with you if you want,” he offered in face of Dean’s silence. 

 

Warning bells went off in Dean’s head. What the hell had Sam said to him? Was Dean really hiding his feelings so badly that even Dad was willing to take time out for him? Or was this just Sam’s way of getting back at him? Things were beginning to suspiciously feel like another setup. He’d agree to go see Sam with Dad and the next thing he knew he’d be sitting pretty in some room with white padded walls. Or heavily medicated in some rehab center for freaks who fell in love with their brothers. 

 

Granted he probably needed it, but he wasn’t going. Not so long as he was breathing. 

 

“There’s nothing to work out,” Dean insisted. “We’re good.” Nothing a lot of alcohol couldn’t cure. Or at least numb. 

 

Dad narrowed his eyes. “Then why haven’t you been talking to your brother?” 

 

Dean sighed. It was no wonder he and Dad hadn’t gotten along after Sam left. They were just too damn much alike for Dean to separate the two of them. “I’ve been busy. Things will blow over.” 

 

Dad hesitated a second, frowning at his oldest. Dean could tell he wanted to drop it, to deny whatever Sam had told him, but his worry was making the decision a little harder to make. “If you’re sure…” 

 

Dean grinned and pushed away from the bar, thankful the need for the emotional pow wow to end had clouded Dad‘s better judgment in his favor. “I’m sure. I’m fine, Dad. It’s just going to take some getting used to. Not having the kid around to take care of.” 

 

Dad nodded and followed Dean’s example, throwing down a few bills on the bar he made his way to the door, sure of Dean’s presence behind him. He hesitated a second, considering calling Dad back and being truthful. The truth could have saved him with Sam, maybe it could save him now. 

 

Clenching his jaw he shook his head free of foolish thoughts and followed Dad out of the bar. He climbed into the Impala, and started it up, waiting for Dad to lead the way. 

 

Yeah, it was just going to take some time. That’s what he’d been telling himself for months. Time would heal all wounds, right? Wasn’t that the cliché? It was just going to take some time to get used to the gaping hole Sam had left in his heart. Just a little time to get used to dying.


End file.
